


Untitled Goose Fic

by ArcadeGhostAdventurer



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Untitled Goose Game Fusion, Crack, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Untitled Goose Game AU, the fic where goose steals shit and plays matchmaker, totally accurate goose behaviour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 14:34:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21649162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcadeGhostAdventurer/pseuds/ArcadeGhostAdventurer
Summary: That wandering pillow stuffing on two flappy feet keeps stealing Tony's tools. Too bad the little shit is hiding them in Steve Rogers' garden because Steve definitely hates Tony.He does, right?
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 22
Kudos: 130
Collections: POTS (18+) Stony Stocking 2019





	Untitled Goose Fic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [misbehavingvigilante](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misbehavingvigilante/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [misbehavingvigilante](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misbehavingvigilante/pseuds/misbehavingvigilante) in the [stony_stocking_2019](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/stony_stocking_2019) collection. 

> For Ava's prompt: A Video Game AU like literally pick a game you like and write an AU because we need more. Bonus points if you pick an indie game.
> 
> I wanted to write this fic since I played Untitled Goose Game, so thank you for giving me an excuse!! :D Geese are from hell, Steve is too good for his own good but also a little bit of an idiot but it's okay because so is Tony. 
> 
> I hope you like it! :*

“No! I will roast you for Thanksgiving! Hell, I will roast you for a completely insignificant mid-week lunch you-” Tony stands back up as the surprisingly agile goose makes it off with his screwdriver, ducking under the table as it runs away. For the third time that day.

“Geese don’t use screwdrivers!” Tony shouts after it, halfheartedly, “You don’t even have opposable thumbs!” 

The goose doesn’t turn around. Naturally, since geese would never admit to understanding something as pathetic as spoken language.

He looks after the waddling white bum, slowly disappearing in the distance. Oh well, he has other screwdrivers.  
\--

It isn’t until Tony catches the fat feathery fury of hell making off with an entire bundle of fiber optic cable that he fully recognizes the extent of the crimes committed by this goose.

“No! No!! You rotund little shit! Come back- Ow!”

Unfortunately not only he is too late to realize the culprit, but he is also under a car. And so, before Tony can recover from bumping his head and free himself from under the chassis, the goose is gone. So is his brand new cable.

“Fuck you,” mutters Tony, looking after him once again. He rubs his forehead.

He lost about a hundred dollars worth of cable and gained one lump on his head. Now exactly a fair trade, if you ask him.  
\---

He’s had it. A goose is a glorified duck. Tony will not hear anything else on this matter. Also a goose definitely does not need one flat head and three Phillips head screwdrivers; two pliers, one needle nose and one grooved; a roll of blue painter’s tape, in mint condition; wire cutters; one putty knife; one medium sized hammer and two bananas. 

All right, maybe he could let go of the bananas. The little dude, or dudette, has probably already demolished what was supposed to be Tony’s attempt at starting healthy eating habits three weeks ago.

But the other stuff? No way.

So, here is the plan.

The goose must be taking this stuff somewhere. This is almost a one-man organized crime at this point. The bird must have a stash and that stash must be somewhere in this little town.

Maybe Tony’s attempts at goose-proofing the garage haven’t been too successful; considering, as a mechanic, he has to wheel in and out cars, sometimes tractors and hefty motor blocks of farming equipment. Some part of the garage has to open up and that opening has to be big. But, there is nothing holding him from following the goose and finding the little offender’s stash of stolen goods.

He is surprised, really, that he hasn’t thought of this before. He’s a genius. Supposedly. Self-proclaimed but still... It’s just that, the monotone but deafeningly loud and repetitive honks of the creature are so damn disheartening that he just… Gave up. Before even trying.

Yeah, that really doesn’t sound like Tony Stark.

So, he will wait and he will follow. Because if there is one thing he knows, it’s that that goose cannot resist the sweet, sweet call of free knick-knacks that are absolutely of no use to it.  
\---

And Tony is right. The waddling bundle of doom approaches, honking and being a general nuisance. It doesn’t even try for stealth as it grabs a long strip of discarded chain and totters away.

Tony gets up, downs his coffee and follows.

He has made the calculations. Ran the numbers. The goose cannot be hiding its stolen goodies anywhere too far. First of all, it’s a goose. With short legs. And it has been seen stealing stuff that was too heavy for it to fly with. Second of all, it’s always around. So considering the time it would need to steal, leave, stash and come back; it’s probably hiding its stuff in some unseen but not unreachable and definitely not far away place.

Under a hedge, possibly. Or in a ditch.

Most likely it’s someone’s garden or barn.

And wouldn’t that be the best. He might not be exactly friendly with a lot of people but it is a small town and he is the only mechanic. So if the goose is hiding his stuff in someone’s garden, he’ll just knock on their door and retrieve his stuff. Done.

He strolls down the little path after the toddling white bum, listening to the sound of the chain rolling on the ground without paying much attention to where he’s actually going.

That is, until the jangling of the chain is dulled by grass and the white feathery bum disappears between someone’s broken garden fence. But not just anyone’s garden fence. Oh no. Because Tony Stark’s life cannot be without drama and complications once, even in a remote little town like this.

That little expressionless harbinger of doom, that pint sized behemoth, Tony’s peanut-brained personal devil choose Steve Rogers’ garden to stove away his embezzled tools.

Well, Tony is not going to be knocking on that door anytime soon. He knows for a fact that the guy hates his guts. Since day one. Not that there had been any other day apart from day one but… Well. Oh well.

He could… Sneak in? 

Yeah, and just further establish the idea that he is a fucking creep in the man’s eyes.

He stands there for a couple minutes under fading daylight, with a defeated expression on his face before turning around and leaving for his garage. Maybe he should go back to his ideas for cutting-edge anti-goose technology.  
\---

Steve knows exactly how the high-end, diamond tipped cutter came into his house and from where. And the screwdrivers. And the pliers. And the tape.

The entire roll of unused cable that he has no idea how that goose ever dragged through his fence.

The problem is that he’s pretty sure he made the mechanic hate his guts the first time they met.

He got defensive and well… Some needlessly rude things had been said and assumptions had been made. By Steve. Because Steve is great at acting without thinking apparently. 

Well. What happened had happened and Steve should have apologized when he had the chance. But now, after so much time, it would be weird to go to the guy’s house and apologize.

And it would also be weird to act like nothing happened. Which, at this moment, really doesn’t solve his problem of hoarding the man’s equipment in his own house.

He probably doesn’t even remember you, says a little voice in his head, he probably hasn’t even lingered on it like you do, forgot about it the moment you had left.

It’s just that, sometimes it’s still hard for Steve to remember he has grown, both literally and figuratively, and possibly more than doubled in weight. He’s… Well, decent looking now. Not a scrawny little kid. On the outside, at least. Inside is a whole another matter.

So in the end, it had taken his tired-to-the-bone-from-moving brain about three days to realize the mechanic hadn’t been making fun of him when they had been introduced but instead, had been kind of hitting on him. Possibly. Or he is just friendly like that. But Steve is ready to bet the guy had been flirting. With him. Maybe.

And now it’s too late to do anything about it, Steve thinks to himself ruefully. At least he doesn’t own anything that requires a mechanic, really. That, he thinks, had to have been enough to escape from the possible mortification of facing the guy again.

And frankly, when Steve had kind of adopted the town criminal, the goose, how could he have known that the animal would have… Done this! Out of all things a goose could ever do! This!!

“Honk! Hooonk!!”

“I heard you buddy, I’m on it,” Steve slowly rises from his chair and leaves his brooding aside to open his door.

There, stands the goose, with a chain hanging from its beak. It happily waddles inside once Steve steps aside and drops the chain onto its pile.

“Honk!”

“Stealing is bad, you know?” Steve looks at it accusingly.

Goose just honks again.

Steves checks out the frankly impressive pile of tools and knick-knacks the big bird carried into his house over the course of weeks. He sighs, he needs to do something about this. He needs to be brave. He can take his stuff to the guy. He can- 

Or, maybe he can just mail it! 

He slumps. The guy lives fifteen minutes away. He really couldn’t have come up with a more offensive way of returning the stuff and making the situation even more uncomfortable. He could even add a note. Hey remember how rudely I turned you down the first time we met? Well I still don’t want to see your face, just so you know.

Steve sighs and goes to set out some vegetable scraps for the little rascal. He looks at the goose as it gobbles down the carrot peels, “You started this mess and you fix it!”

And then he thinks, maybe, maybe it really could. Yup, this is definitely going to be the best way of testing the waters. Steve is a genius.  
\---

Tony is pacing his garage. He needs his 3mm plier that is somewhere in Steve Rogers’ garden. He cannot go there. He has ordered a new one but the two day shipping is… Well, two days away. And he just has nothing else to do but pace and think.

He’s about to go crazy. Just a little more pacing and thinking and he will be intellectually stunted forever, only being able to think about Steve Rogers.

Steve Rogers the artist. The polite, kind, attractive, whose angelic aura enticed even that little white beast of hell and he’s just so- 

Okay, no going down that road. He did it once already. And he’s still pacing. Tony’s feelings and opinions about Steve Rogers are not the answer to this dilemma.

He needs the opposite. Needs to think about what Rogers thinks of him. Which, from his reaction was when they met, isn’t really anything pleasant.

It’s just that Tony, being Tony, hadn't been able to say no to flirting with the handsome stranger. It’s not like they get new blood in this town that often. And definitely not of that caliber. Rogers had looked good, coming out of the little store with groceries, biceps swelling with the weight of the bags. Face open and hopeful. Tired, but hopeful.

And Tony is only human. And gay. So sue him.

Rogers hadn’t looked like a bigot then, and with all that he has heard about him, Tony doesn’t think he’s one either. Maybe he’s straight. A huge possibility. But that alone still doesn’t explain his hostility.

Tony wants to say maybe Rogers saw into him that day, somehow knew Tony’s track record. The short and failed relationships. The bad decisions and the mistakes. Just how Tony failed to make any partner happy, failed to be enough so that they would stay...

But that’s ridiculous. Right?

Right. So he paces, and thinks maybe he could ask his regulars to ask around and one of them is bound to know Rogers and they can be a middleman to- 

“HONK!” 

Tony jumps.,

“HOOONK!!”

“What now, you little- Oh!”

The goose is waddling around in the open areas of his garage, its little orange feet making cute flapping sounds on concrete. But weirdly enough, it doesn’t seem to be stealing anything. On the contrary, it’s just… Waddling. Around. Hmm...

Getting closer to the goose, Tony realizes there is a red ribbon tied in a neat bow around his neck. From this ribbon dangles a piece of paper. 

To Tony Stark.

Tony looks to the left. Then to the right. Then for good measure, he pokes his head out of the garage and looks around. There is nobody.

He looks back at the goose. Well, somebody was able to tie that around its neck, so it must be safe to take it off, right?

“If you bite me, and I mean it, even if you just, peck me a little, I’m taking you right to the butcher’s shop.”  
\---

Steve comes back to his house and his incriminating balled up papers, hiding and evading the town people throughout the whole way. And he’s already having a freak-out about just how much he has overshared in what was supposed to be a tiny note saying “Hey, I have your things I think, would you like to pick them up or would you like me to bring them over.”

But no Steve had to go and be all hopelessly romantic and embarrassing and overshare. At least he didn’t outright say stuff like your eyes are beautiful or you’re really confident and I don’t know how to talk to you or… Yeah.

And obviously he wouldn’t be able to trust the dumb (however cute and waddly) bird to find its way directly to the mechanic’s garage so he had all but grabbed the goose and went over to the place himself. Had set the goose back on its feet from the side of the garage door and ran away like a kid. Well, there had been some peeking, but he couldn’t risk being caught.

All in all, he’d give himself 10/10 for planning, 10/10 for execution and like… 3/10 for the contents note itself. So it all averaged to something passable. Hopefully.

The worst thing is that Tony Stark was as intimidatingly and effortlessly handsome as he remembered. Steve hadn’t been able to stop peeking at him as he gingerly taking off the ribbon around the goose’s neck. He had been in a black tank top; his slightly tanned and toned arms flexing as he fiddled with the bow. He had wiped his hands on an already grease stained fabric before opening the note.

And then Steve had ran away.

Now, back in his house, Steve sits down and puts his face in his hands. He can literally feel just how blushed his cheeks are from the warmth. But, what’s done is done. He cannot really take it back now. The mechanic’s tools are in a paper bag by the door, in case he just, you know, wants to take them and leave. Steve wouldn’t want to make him wait.

And Steve hates to wait himself, but there is really nothing else left to do.  
\---

Tony wears a shirt and then realizes what he’s doing and takes it off. He’s not wearing a button up shirt to walk fifteen minutes,get his tools and come back. That’s a little too much. A little.

He does trim his beard though. Looking put together never hurt anybody. Definitely a plus, if you’re going to see the guy you’ve had a crush on for over a month. For the second time. After a total fucking disaster.

It’s been really hard. Moving. Leaving a big city like New York and coming to a small town. Wondering if it will work out, if you’ll be able to make it. Get used to it. But staying in Brooklyn had became harder and harder after I had lost my mother. But also I had never lived anywhere else before. All my life; the same neighbourhood, same faces, same places...

I had been tired and irritable, Steve had written. I owe you a very late apology, he had said. I have, what I assume is, all of your lost tools and I would like to return them if you’re not against seeing me again.

Tony is clearly very against the idea, seeing that he’s changing his t-shirt for the fourth time instead of just leaving his house like a normal person.

Also, Steve had called the goose, the town criminal, without specifying that he was talking about the bird, which will always be written as about 10 points in his corner. Even if this thing doesn’t work out. It 

He’s stalling. He’s stalling so much.

He checks himself out in the mirror one last time. Fixes his hair and washes his hands once again. The grease under his nails will never be fully gone probably but he can try. Make an effort. Yeah.

When he makes it to the edge of Steve’s picket fence, the goose is already inside. Right at the door, sitting on the doormat with its face tucked under its wing, seemingly dead to the world. Once Tony opens the garden gate however, it starts screaming its little head off. And the door opens before Tony has any time to psych himself up.

Steve Rogers comes out shining golden under the late afternoon sun and  
complaining, “I just fed you!”

“Yeah, a microphone it seems like,” Tony cringes as soon as the words leave his mouth. Yes Tony, amazing, insert your foot a little bit deeper into your mouth.

Steve startles and looks at him, clearly not expecting to see him, but then he laughs and it’s all Tony can do at that moment is not to slump in relief. 

Steve clears his throat, “I will go get your, uh- Tools? Yes. Just a sec-” He disappears behind the door as the goose squeezes inside beside his leg.

Tony is left all by himself in front of the door, suddenly feeling disappointed. Well, what did he expect?  
\---

Once inside, Steve slumps against the door frame for two seconds, needing to regroup. This is harder than he thought it would be and Tony looks better than he has any right to with his perfect curl falling on his forehead and his perfect facial hair and- Well, at least he didn’t bring up the note, or the delivery method, Steve thinks, not that he gave him any time to speak.

Steve takes the hefty bag of tools into his hands. Takes a deep breath. Now or never, now or never, he repeats from inside, be brave for yourself for one second.

He opens the door again and Tony is there, standing a polite distance away from the steps. Steve extends the bag, “Here you go. This is all that I could find, though, if you have anything else missing-”

“Thank you, thank you. Well, yeah, I think I’ll be fine,” Tony looks at him with a clipped smile.

Now or never, now or never.

“Hey, you know, if you ever lose anything you can,” Steve can feel his blush rising, “well, call?”  
\---

“I don’t have a phone.” What? What?! If there was ever a good time for a meteor to fall onto me and just onto me, now is it, Tony thinks.

“Oh,” Steve deflates.

“No!” Tony shouts, making both of them flinch. Then schools his voice into something more appropriate, “I mean I didn’t,” he flails, pointing up the hill he came from, “my house is just over there so, I don’t know, I didn’t think I’d need it honestly. So I can’t really- I mean, your number- I can give you mine?” 

“Oh, yeah, sure. Just let me-” Steve disappears back into the house and comes back with his phone, gives a little nod, “Mhm?” 

So Tony gives Steve his number. Steve sends him a text. After a polite goodbye he leaves, clutching his tools to his chest and all but runs back to his house. He throws the bag onto his work table on his way up and immediately goes searching for his phone. 

He giggles as he reads the message, “Hi! This is Steve the goose-sitter.”  
\---

A Couple Of Months Later

“Steve!! If you don’t come pick up your live pillow stuffing, you’re going to see it under the cloche for tonight’s dinner.”

Steve laughs, honest to God laughs at him and his misery on the phone, “Like you know how to cook.”

Tony sputters, phone in hand and eyes locked onto the little criminal currently pat-pat-ing greasy footprints all over his beautiful and once clean car. With a harmonica in its beak.

Aimless chaos, that’s what it is.

He sighs, “That was cruel and you know it but I’ll let it go if you come here and give me a kiss.”

“Tony, I have one more lesson, just one more and then I’m home, okay babe?”

Tony grinns giddily. Okay, maybe he’s a little head over heels here but at least he knows he’s not the only one. 

As Steve had predicted, the goose kept stealing his tools. And kept stashing them in Steve’s house. And Tony just kept… Going back to retrieve them. In time it became Steve coming over to drop off some things Tony had not yet realized gone missing and staying to chat for a bit. Or Tony realizing things were missing and going to Steve’s house for a coffee, waiting for the goose to come from parading his stolen goods around.

They talked about Steve’s moving adventures first. Then his reasons; his Ma’s illness, losing her at the hospital and his best friend overseas and looking around Brooklyn to see pain everywhere. And in turn Tony told his own story, about leaving a busy life with three cities in one day, shareholder’s meetings, inventing with strict deadlines on endless budget that got quite unfulfilling really quickly.

And then they talked about more personal details. Steve’s insecurities from when he was dealing with asthma and was as thin as a stick that never quite left. Tony’s inability to pay attention to anybody or anything but his craft for more than two seconds that drove all his ex-es away.

Steve had smiled at his berating, “You’ve been here for three hours now.”

“And? Should I- Oh.” Tony had blushed, “Well, yeah.”

Somewhere along the way, it had become this.

Tony knows Steve will come over after he’s done teaching kids how to draw and will give him as many kisses as he wants and then a little bit more. He will cook because Tony really cannot but helps by providing any ingredient Steve needs for his recipes, no matter how obscure. They will sit in Tony’s little kitchen and chat and eat and kiss a little bit more. And when Steve gets up to go home, his overgrown duck with itsy-bitsy razor teeth will follow him back home loyally.

But there is still an hour and then some until that can happen.

“I am not cleaning your weird misshapen dog though,” he sulks into his phone.

Steve chuckles, “That’s alright Tony, I have to go now, I’ll see you soon, alright?”

“Yeah, okay, love you.”

“Love you too.”


End file.
